Page 30 of Wicked Sinner
"Caesar fucking Genovese.” Danny chuckles, his voice raspy from years of smoking. "Heard you were back in town. About damn time you called me."
Danny has been my friend since we were kids. One of that ‘bad crowd’ Konstantin brought up during our first conversation—a punk and a street racer back then, although I’m not sure what he’s up to these days. Back then, we got drunk and raced cars and chased girls, him riding the high of being young and alive, me riding the high of doing the opposite of what my father wanted.
“Murphy’s tonight?” I suggest. “I can meet you there at eight.”
“Sure thing. I’ve missed hearing from you, man. Fair warning—I'm gonna give you shit about disappearing for twenty years."
I chuckle at that. “Looking forward to it,” I promise him, and hang up.
Murphy’s is exactly the kind of place I need right now—a dark dive full of working-class guys who aren’t going to recognize or give a shit about me. The bartender back in the day used to let Danny and me drink even though we were underage, and for all the places I’ve been since I left, I’ve always missed it.
When I walk in just before eight p.m., I have the first feeling of home that I’ve gotten since I’ve been back. Miami itself is full of fraught memories for me, but all my memories of this place are good. It’s all beer and darts and pool, long nights with Danny and the other guys, using our winnings to get drunk and hit on the girls who followed the street racers around like groupies.Thisis the place that, as I walk in and breathe in the scent of cigarettes, old carpet, and yeasty beer, feels like somewhere I’d want to come back to.
Danny is in a back booth, a bowl of pretzels in front of him, and a dark lager in front of him. He looks a lot like I remember from twenty years ago—still good-looking, if a bit greyer around the edges and with a few more lines in his face. I get a beer from the bar on my way over, an ale that looks like exactly what I used to drink here.
“Look what the cat dragged in.” Danny gets up, giving me a back-slapping hug before dropping back down into the booth. “I fucking missed you, man. Thought you were dead or some shit.”
“It’s been a close call a few times,” I admit. “But I’m still here. What about you? What have you been up to?”
Danny shrugs, taking a long swig of his beer. “Rebuilding cars. Still racing now and then. Got married and divorced, no kids. You know—life shit. Nothing as exciting as what you’ve probably got going on, now that you’re back in town. Sorry to hear about your dad,” he adds. “Or not sorry, I guess. Guy was an asshole, but he was still your dad.”
“I’m not sorry.” I shake my head, and he lets out a relieved breath.
“I never know what to say about these things. So you’ve come back to take over, I guess?”
“Something like that.” I let out a long breath. “It’s complicated.”
“I bet it is.” Danny gives me a long look. “You don’t seem all that happy about it.”
I consider how much to tell him. Danny's always been good at keeping secrets, and right now I need someone to talk to who isn't going to try to use the information against me.
“There’s more to it. I met someone.”
Danny whistles. “Already? You’ve been back, what, a few days?”
“A few weeks.”
“And you waited this long to look me up? Shit.” He shakes his head, but he’s grinning. He’s not actually pissed at me. “So, three weeks. And it’s already this serious? Drinking in a bar with an old buddy serious?”
I laugh drily, taking a long drink of my beer. “She’s pregnant.”
Danny’s eyes widen. “Shit. Good thing or bad thing?”
“Good, as far as I’m concerned.” I shrug. “A mafia don needs an heir. It wasn’t planned, but I like her. I liked her from the first night I met her. And she’s a hell of a lot better, in my opinion, than any of the glossy mafia princesses that keep getting paraded in front of me.”
“So, what’s the problem?” Danny chuckles. “She is not as big a fan of you as you are of her?”
“At the moment?” My jaw tightens. “No.”
“What’d you do?” Danny grins at me, expecting something stupid, I’m sure. I let out a sharp breath, feeling a stab of guilt over how I’ve handled the whole situation.
"I may have been a little... forceful in my approach."
Danny’s eyes narrow. “Forceful how, Caesar?”
“I brought her home with me. She wasn’t exactly… willing.”
“Caesar.” Danny’s gaze turns disapproving, a little shocked. Maybe he’s not as nonjudgmental as I thought he’d be after all. “Fucking hell, man. I know you’re mafia and all, but making women do things they don’t wanna do?—”
